I've Kinda Been Calling You Buttercup In My Head
by CoffeeSwan
Summary: What if Emma Swan made a wish on her 27th birthday too? Pre-show AU, cursed!Killian. I don't own OUAT or The Princess Bride


**Just a little drabble that kinda happened for CS Hiatus meme on Tumblr. I don't own OUAT or The Princess Bride**

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Another year, another birthday. This day marked the start of late twenties for Emma Swan, and she felt no emotions whatsoever aside from the loneliness the seeds of which have been planted when she was three and have been growing at an alarming rate for almost a decade now. She closed her eyes and blew out a candle on the solitary cupcake in front of her. Perhaps, she could drop the cynicism for one day...

"I don't want to be alone on my birthday" - she whispered to herself as she inhaled the tiny puff of smoke from the candle. She chuckled bitterly to herself when she opened her eyes and didn't see any genies eager to grant her wish materialising in front of her. Oh well. Emma Swan's world was the opposite of a wish-granting factory and she's survived just fine, thank you very much.

...But why was her phone ringing at 11.30 pm on a Saturday night?

She groaned and reached for the phone, seeing a "Blocked Number calling" flashing on her screen. Couldn't perps take a night off once in a while?

"Hello?" - she spoke into the phone.

"Who's this? Where's Graham?" - a voice spoke at the other end Holy shit. The speaker, whoever they were, possessed a voice that could very well be the voice equivalent of a lube. "_What a weird thing to imagine"_ \- Emma thought, dismissing the absurd idea.

"I'm sorry, who? There's no Graham here" - was she really so lonely that she was talking to a prankster?

"Bloody hell, who is this?" - the stranger replied, sounding agitated. - "Can you please just find the Sheriff and tell him Killian's got locked out of the warehouse?"

"Look, I don't know any Graham's or Killian's. I think you have the wrong number!"

"Seriously?!" - the man, presumably named Killian, groaned. Good God, he sounded hot. Emma scowled.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so."  
"Bloody hell" - he swore again. Definitely British, or Irish maybe? - "I'm sorry to bother you, love"

"It's fine. Are you OK?" - she was definitely not all hot and bothered by the strange man's accented voice, she just wanted to see if he was alright.

"Not really. I have an early shift tomorrow and I left my keys at my other job" - she could tell he was frustrated.

"I'm sorry" - she spoke sympathetically, deciding that this wasn't a prank call. - "Have you tried climbing through the window?"

"That's not really possible in my situation, love - I've only got one hand. Besides, the place has no windows - it's a warehouse"

Emma sighed. "That does suck. Were you trying to call the police?"

"Aye" - she pictured the stranger nodding. For some reason, she imagined him having dark hair, bangs falling over his eyes as he moved his head. - "Graham's the local Sheriff but I seem to have dialled you instead, love."

She rolled her eyes at the nickname he's uttered twice. British people were weird.

"Don't call me that" - she grumbled, hearing a chuckle on the other end.

"My apologies. What should I call you then?" - he spoke, his voice slightly deeper and even sexier somehow. She snorted.

"Dude, I'm not going to tell my name to a complete stranger on the phone!" _No matter how attractive I imagine that stranger to be_.

"Well, we don't have to be strangers. My name is Killian Jones, pleased to meet you, lass who's yet to tell me her name."

She laughed despite herself.

"Well it's nice to meet you too, Killian Jones." The name suited the voice, she realised - "Killian" was smooth and the "J" in "Jones" gave it something of a sexy egde.

"I don't even know your name, and yet mine sounds so wonderful when you say it" - Killian spoke softly.

"Sorry, buddy. Not gonna happen" - she wasn't going to reveal her name to him.

"As you wish" - he replied. Woah.

"Seriously? You're quoting "The Princess Bride"?" - she scoffed, grateful that he couldn't see her smiling.

"What's wrong with "The Princess Bride"?" - he exclaimed. - "Some consider it to be the most romantic movie of all time."

"Really? A pirate and a princess? A little cliche and overdone, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. But not when the pirate has a heart of gold and the princess has a pair of the most perfect breasts in history". Goddammit. Were all British accents so arousing? Emma bit her lip.

"Got a little crush on Buttercup, do you?" - she teased.

"Maybe. Or maybe I just have a thing for feisty blondes. I bet you are a blonde."

Fine. Two could play that game. And it's not like she had anything better to do.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" If she closed her eyes, she could visualise a grin spreading across a handsome face more clearly.

"Perhaps I would" - he sounded a lot more... sincere than she expected.

"Well, I am. A blonde, that is. Are you?"

"Me? Alas no, Westley has the monopoly on fair-haired rogues I'm afraid. My hair is as jet-black as it gets." She was right.

"You a rogue are you?" - she teased.

"I do run a bar in a neighbourhood that could be considered seedy. Or as seedy as this small town ever gets. What do you do?"

Emma smirked. This was getting to be a lot more fun than she expected.

"Care to venture a guess?"

"Hmm. Are you some sort of a law enforcement figure

"Where did you get that idea?" - she was stunned.

"Despite not having any idea who I am, you offered a suggestion to climb through a window which would have been helpful in most situations. Plus, you scoffed at my quoting one of the most infamous rouges in cinematic history."

She bit her lip. He made excellent points.

"Yeah, you could say I catch bad guys."

"Do you wear a uniform?"

"Sometimes" - it wasn't strictly a lie, she did have a certain "uniform" when she went out to honeytrap horny male preps.

"I bet you cut quite the figure in it"

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I don't. But you have a beautiful voice which I assume belongs to a very beautiful lady". She had to admit - this Killian Jones had game.

"Well, thank you. So where is this small town you're at?"

"New England" - he answered vaguely. - "Whereabouts are you at?"  
"East Coast" - she answered even more vaguely.

"Maine?"

"No, why?"

"Too bad. You would like it."

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_Two hours later_

"Why don't you believe in true love?" - Killian asked. They've been chatting and flirting back and forth for a couple of hours now and Emma found herself having more fun than she had in a while.

"What makes you say that I don't?" - she frowned, not wishing to talk about Neal.

"You paused when I asked if you've ever been in love before saying that you haven't."

"So?"

"You've been burned by love before". He didn't say it like it was a question.

"Yeah well, my life hasn't exactly been the stuff what fairytales are made of" - she sighed, evading the question.

"You're an orphan aren't you?" Whoa. That was sudden.

"How.. how did you know?" - she stammered, too stunned to think of a witty retort or a subject change.

"I have another job. At a warehouse. I've seen my fair share of lost boys and girls camping out in there. They all have that look in their eyes. A look of someone who's been abandoned." All traces of laughter were gone from his voice. Emma closed her eyes.

"You can't even see me" - she finally spoke after a minute of silence on each end.

"Don't have to. Even though I want to."

"Killian, you don't even know my name"

"I've kinda been calling you "Buttercup" in my head."

She sputtered. "Don't! I'm no princess."

"Then what should I call you, lass?" - the teasing tone returned and she nearly sighed with relief.

"Fine. My name's Emma. Happy now?"

She could practically hear a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

"Well Emma, it's nice to meet you."

Emma managed to fall asleep three hours later, which were spent on the phone with a mysterious Killian Jones from Maine. When she woke up, however, she didn't remember a single word of their conversation.

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**I should be writing Supersaviour but this is just a little writing "warm-up" as you call it :) Reviews are welcomed and appreciated!**


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